


Taking Flight

by elletromil



Series: Numinous [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon-Typical Violence, Fae & Fairies, Gen, M/M, Magical Realism, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 18:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13370814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elletromil/pseuds/elletromil
Summary: A veil seems to suddenly drops from around the gentleman and he doesn’t change so much as now appears as what he truly is. Still a gentleman, but with antennas and four large bony wings that resembles a butterfly, if butterflies had galaxies painted on theirs. In the dark of the alley, the wings nearly shine in their blue fluorescence, making it impossible to look away.Fuck.A Fae.--When Agent Galahad has to investigate on a new threat on the streets, he never suspected it would put him in contact with someone he had all but forgotten.





	Taking Flight

**Author's Note:**

> The playlist for this story can be listen [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/wendisnek/playlist/556AZHBZOofRqTiboALGND)
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy the story :D

 

The latest overdose doesn’t make it into the papers, but neither did the nine others. Who cares about nameless junkies dying out in the streets after all?

It wouldn’t even have come onto Kingsman’s radar usually, but Merlin is nothing but very thorough. For a simple mortal -- one of the few working for the organisation -- he can work magic with technology and he’s uncovered more information about many of their cases with his relentless monitoring of the internet and hacking into the files of various agencies than years of careful undercover work has ever done.

He’s the one who found the pattern after the third reported overdose death. Not that they really are overdoses, rather silver poisoning of Fae addicts. Of course, there is very little doubt that the victims would have ended up dead eventually if they had continued down the path they were on, but the silver laced drugs hastened the process and have insured they died painfully.

Still, even the targeting of less fortunate Fae would not usually be enough to get Kingsman involved. They would have made sure the proper culprits were brought to justice and paid the highest price for their heinous crimes, but that would have been it.

However, during his combing of the coroner’s reports, Merlin notices something else that had and still continues to elude the attention of the regular authorities. The drugs found in the blood of the victims are like nothing they’ve ever seen before. Worse than that, Merlin and his team have been trying to work out what they do exactly for a couple of weeks already but to no avail. The only thing that’s certain is that it cannot be good.

It also means that there is a new player somewhere, one they have not been aware of before.

That is slightly more worrying than the new drugs on the market.

Hiding one’s presence in the criminal world from Kingsman’s scrutiny is unheard of. Even those who are adept at working from the shadows aren’t as well-hidden as they think they are.

Except for this person it seems.

Which is why Arthur has decided to put one of their agents on the case.

It’s not the kind of case that usually falls on agent Galahad’s desk, but Harry won’t complain about getting to work in the city for once. Not that he thinks the case will stay confined to London for long, but until he gets a clearer idea of who he’s after, there’s no use expanding his search too far.

But Harry also knows not to waste his time trying to find anything out directly about the Shadow, as Kingsman has dubbed whoever is making the drugs. If even Merlin hasn’t found a trace of them, Harry won’t have much more luck, even if his abilities should give him an edge the handler does not possess.

Instead, he’ll start from the bottom of the pyramid and work his way up.

In other words, he needs to find the gang selling the drugs. He has very little doubt that they are also the ones lacing their product with silver. The Shadow seems far too cautious to risk being found out by such a sloppy move.

If he can find them, he can spy on them until they met with their intermediary with the Shadow and then he can follow that person until he has a better idea of the inner working of the Shadow’s organisation.

Had they not been so blatantly anti-Fae, he might have attempted to find someone willing to speak for the right price, but even then, he would be honestly surprised if they have any information worth his time.

Especially considering he finds the gang responsible in less than a day. Not that he is surprised that some secondhand drug dealers are no match for his powers. His first plan is probably the option that will yield the best results. The Shadow might have no other choice but to associate themselves with the likes of Dean Baker for the distribution of their product, but Harry is convinced they are doing so through so many intermediaries that Dean Baker has no idea who his supplier really is.

Still, Harry is nothing but completely thorough and he never rushes unprepared into any situation if he can help it.

Even if he is certain Baker’s gang is undeserving of his attention, except maybe to exact vengeance for his fellow Fae they cowardly poisoned, he still does a background check on all of them before he leaves to walk into their next meeting.

Nothing he finds is out of the ordinary, but one detail from Baker’s file does give him pause.

Apparently, that poor excuse of a man has a stepson who most probably works for him. Gary “Eggsy” Unwin.

It shouldn’t be remarkable, except that Harry is extremely familiar with the name.

It awakens an old guilt that never really leaves him alone and for a moment he’s unsure what to do. If the young man is anything like his father, his real one, then surely Harry could use his help and at the same time find a way to pay his life-debt to Lee Unwin.

He contemplates the possibility longer than he should, staring at the picture of the young man’s brief stint with the marines. But in the end, there is no place for sentimentality in his line of work.

Even if he had a hand in the circumstances that have befallen the young man, his choices are his and his alone. He cannot help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

 

*

The men walking briskly on the otherwise deserted street don’t look so much dangerous as they look to be trouble. Not that their particular brand of trouble isn’t dangerous at times, but the locals know to keep out of their ways and how not to draw their attention.

Eggsy wishes he could do the same, wishes he could just get away from them, but unfortunately, he’s got no choice but to be a part of their little group, no matter how distasteful he finds the whole thing.

He tried to get away from Dean and the whole two-bits criminal life, he really did. Even after he’d had to give up his only real shot at a better future when his mum got pregnant during his training with the marines, he never gave up. He accepts any scrap of legal work he can get, but nothing ever pans out into a more permanent position. Sure, he makes enough money to make sure his mum and baby sister never want of anything, but that’s pretty much it.

Some would say they aren’t his responsibilities, but someone _has_ to step up and do it and it sure won’t be Dean.

Of course, making sure his mum and Daisy don’t starve isn’t “contribution” enough for his stepfather. So Dean has given him the ultimatum to either bring in more cash to pay for his room or start working for him again.

Not that it’s any kind of choice and they both know it. There simply isn’t any way for Eggsy to get any more cash than he’s getting already.

That’s the reason he’s lagging behind Dean’s goons tonight, wanting very much to be miles away from there.

He thought that Dean wanted him to just be a runner again, but apparently, his stepfather has other plans for him now that he’s tried to get away once. By making Eggsy more involved in all the stages of his business, Dean will be sure to have enough dirt on him to keep him in his place.

As if Eggsy has any fight left in him.

At least, he’s starting with a meeting with the suppliers instead of helping with “upgrading” the drugs, as Dean calls it. Just the thought of it is enough to turn his stomach. The people buying from the likes of Dean are already in a vulnerable place. They might be in the process of ruining their lives, but they don’t deserve to be poisoned at the same time.

That the silver they are lacing the drugs with is only harmful to the Fae is no consolation to Eggsy. He doesn’t pretend he’s free of all prejudices, but to him, a life is a life. Who cares if the person can shapeshift into a wolf or conjures storms? They are thinking, _breathing_ beings.

The true vermins aren’t them.

The vermins are men like Dean. And soon, Eggsy will be just like him.

As the realisation hits him, he finds himself unable to breath for a moment and he has no other choice but to stop walking.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Come on Muggsy,” Poodle snaps at him, “we can’t afford to be late. Deans wants to start on the upgrade tonight.”

The words and ensuing sniggering from the others shake him out of his little panic attack. It’s too late to go back now, he’ll just have to learn how to live with the self-loathing. It seems a small price to pay to make sure his little sister has any kind of chance at a better future.

His legs feeling like lead, he’s still catching up to the others when they get to the meeting place, a narrow alley surrounded in shadows. Because of that, he’s the only one who notices the middle-aged man coming their way from the other side at first. It’s so weird a sight, the well-dressed gentleman clearly out of place walking in such a neighborhood in the dead of the night, that Eggsy stops dead in his tracks.

Before Poodle can yell at him again, the stranger clears his throat lightly and, when their attention turns to him, smiles in a way that would only be described as innocent to someone blind to the menacing aura around him.

“You better start walking gramps, it can get dangerous here at night.” Dean’s goons are apparently such people, used to being at the top of the food chain since they only pick on those weaker than them.

The gentleman’s smile only widens at the poorly disguised threat and Eggsy takes a few steps back while he still can. Not that he’s thinking of running away, because Dean would probably kill him for doing so, but with any luck he can escape the stranger’s notice.

“Actually,” the man starts calmly, his eyes meeting Eggsy’s for a moment, letting him know without words that there is no escaping this, “ I was rather hoping you would help me in making it less so.” His teeth are showing now, but Eggsy shivers because this is no smile. This is predator intimidation, plain and simple. Not that the others seem to realise it. “You could, for example, tell me the name of your supplier.”

It’s never going to happen, a fact the stranger seems to know already as he doesn’t seem overly surprised when Poodle launches himself at him in an attempt to stab him. He sidesteps the attack easily, sighing with great exaggeration.

“Really, you disappoint me. I had hoped it wouldn't come to such childish displays of violence.”

It’s such an obvious lie that Eggsy nearly snorts both from bemusement and nervousness, but the laughter gets stuck in his throat when a veil seems to suddenly drops from around the gentleman. He doesn’t change so much as now appears as what he truly _is_. Still a gentleman, but with antennas and four large bony wings that resembles a butterfly, if butterflies had galaxies painted on theirs. In the dark of the alley, the wings nearly shine in their blue fluorescence, making it impossible to look away.

It would be mesmerizing and awe-inspiring if only it wasn’t so terrifyingly _other_.

 _Fuck_. A Fae.

Eggsy should have known retribution for all those poisoned innocents would come the day he finally caved into Dean. That’s just the kind of luck he has.

*

Dropping the glamour isn’t part of his plan. Then again, directly engaging with those poor excuses of human beings isn’t either.

But impulse control has never been his forte and their bold and callous talk of “upgrading” the drugs has infuriated him beyond measure. From the way they were laughing, it doesn’t take a genius to know it is code for them lacing the drugs with silver and while Harry can usually keep a level-head on missions, tonight… Tonight he finds that he simply cannot.

Partly because of all the suffering and discrimination his kind has had to live through for centuries without having to deal with cowardly sadists on top of everything, but mostly because seeing Lee’s son with those very same men feels like a slap in the face.

It’s a cruel reminder that he not only failed Lee, he also failed the man’s family.

His mistake has not only robbed them of a loving husband and proud father, it robbed them of a much kinder future.

The guilt he feels is greater than he thought possible. It’s not like he went in unaware of the boy’s involvement after all. But suspicions are different than a _fait accompli_. And so, he reacts like he always does when his emotions get stronger than his carefully constructed control.

He lashes out.

It’s reckless, he doesn’t need Merlin to tell him so to know it, but when his fist connects with the nearest man’s oh so humanly fragile jaw and he can feel the bone shattering underneath his knuckles, it’s also _satisfying_.

For a few adrenaline filled minutes, hurting those men is all that matters and he’s completely free of the thought that he might be compromising their only chance to find the Shadow.

In fact, he is free of most thoughts, his desire to bring these pathetic men weeping for mercy at his feet the only thing that drives him.

Of course, it’s not like they are any match for him. They wouldn’t be even if he wasn’t a trained Kingsman agent. They might outnumber him, but his magic is the only ally he needs, his fists and wings the only weapon.

Only Lee’s boy seems to realises that they are very obviously outmatched and keeps well out of his way, though he doesn’t try to escape. He might have taken a wrong turn somewhere in his life, but at least he is smart and loyal. If Harry were to gain his trust, maybe he could use him…

He sidesteps out of the way of the last man standing just in time to avoid being stabbed and knocks him off his feet with a quick flap of his left hindwing. Almost simultaneously, he brings his right forewing down on his head in a powerful blow. The force of it isn’t hard enough that the man loses consciousness, but it’s enough to dizzy him and dissuade him from attacking again.

The only one standing beside Harry is now the boy, and he is still unsure what to do with him. He’s not about to attack him when he’s been sensible enough to stay out of the fight, but he doubts he will tell him anything.

He just needs to look at the defiant tilt of his chin, his defensive posture nearly enough to obscure the fear in his eyes.

Not that Harry can blame him for that one. Without his glamour, he knows he makes quite the sight, and that’s without mentioning the wildness that falls onto him in the midst of a fight.

If it wasn’t for the business he’s tangled up in, Harry might have respected him for standing his ground even when he must know it is hopeless to go against him.

But even if the boy won’t talk, Harry has to try. There would be no end to Merlin’s complaining if he was to go back to HQ with nothing to show for his trouble.

As he takes a step towards the boy however, he can hear sirens in the distance and he curses when he realises the fight must have attracted unwanted attention, even in this kind of neighborhood. His reaction is instinctive, his wings helping him take the leap up to the top of the building. Instead of fleeing however, he stays out of sight on the edge of the roof, so that he can find out what happens to his marks.

The boy barely has time to look relieved at having somehow escaped his fate that his expression darkens when he hears the sirens in turn. Harry thinks for a moment that he’s going to run for it now, but instead, after a look at the rest of the men still groaning in pain on the ground, he sighs in resignation, his lips curling with disgust as he steps closer to them.

He can’t understand why the boy would do such a thing and has to admit that maybe, just _maybe_ , things aren’t exactly what they look like. Or at least, that he is missing some key pieces of information.

Quickly, before the police officers force him to leave the scene altogether, he casts a simple tracking spell on the boy, just in case he avoids getting dragged to the station. Highly unlikely, but Harry has had enough proof tonight that his assumptions might not be quite right.

The link establishes itself seamlessly, completely unnoticeable to anyone and Harry finally leaves as the first officer start rounding up the beaten men. The woman casts a wary look at Lee’s boy, seeing that he is the only one relatively unharmed, but unlike the others cussing about some bastard Fae between spitting blood on the ground, he keeps silent.

*

Ignoring the detective’s questions is something that comes easily to Eggsy, not that the implications of that are anything to be proud of.

At least this time, he knows he isn’t in any real trouble. After all, they didn’t have any drugs on them since they never made it to the meet and getting beaten up in a dark alley isn’t a crime.

The only reason they’re still at the station is because one of Dean’s men was dumb enough to try and pick a fight with one of the officers. It’s not enough to hold any of them for long, but of course, no self-respecting detective would miss out on the chance to try and shake them for information.

“Come on Eggsy. I know it’s no use asking you about your stepfather’s business, but surely you can tell me about the man who attacked you?”

Actually, after the beating he’s witnessed, Eggsy would rather take his chances betraying Dean. He doesn’t care if the others are talking, he’s always got more survival instincts than them and right now, they’re screaming at him to shut the fuck up.

“Though you seem to have escaped without a scratch… That’s a bit odd, no? Except if, maybe, you’re working with that man now? Trying to take over your stepfather’s business are you?”

For the first time since he was brought into the room, Eggsy breaks his silence, laughing with disbelief. “Guv, I didn’t want to assume nothing just going by your face, but you’re even dumber than you look.”

The only reason he’s not been beaten up is mere luck. He’s sure that if the police had gotten there only five minutes later, he would have been on the ground with the rest of Dean’s men.

As for thinking he’s interested in taking over from Dean… The day he seriously considers it will be the day he shoots himself in the head.

The detective doesn’t look too happy to have been insulted, but he doesn’t let Eggsy’s words rile him up and Eggsy’s got to respect that just a bit. It won’t make him talk, but at least the guy is a fucking professional, unlike a lot of arresting officers Eggsy has had to deal with in the past.

“If you’re not working with him, why protect him then?”

He looks away and doesn’t bother answering, crossing his arms together to make it even more obvious that he’s done talking.

The detective sighs, overdoing the fake disappointment just a notch, before standing up.

“I’ll let you think about it. If it’s the start of a gang war or something, it would be better to tell us before there are civilian casualties. Think of your mother.”

Eggsy scowls at the close door for a minute, any ounce of respect he had for the man vanishing. As if he thought of anything else anymore.

It might have been the first time he saw the Fae, but for him to ambush them in an alley well out of anyone’s way, he’s pretty sure the gentleman doesn’t want any civilians caught in the crossfire. He’s not about to give him any reasons to change his mind about that by making it personal to him.

And anyway, Eggsy isn’t about to change how he’s always dealt with his problems.

By himself, without anybody’s help.

*

Being a Kingsman agent opens a lot of doors and this time, Harry uses his status to get into the police station at Holborn and to stand behind the two-way mirror and watch as Lee’s son is interrogated.

With the spell he put on him, he didn’t really need to be present to hear what is being said in the room, but he isn’t interested in the Detective’s little theories. What he needs is all the nuances of the boy's responses. And he's glad he's here to see them when, except for an insult or two, they are all non-verbal.

They’re not of any interest to the Detective, but to Harry, they tell of an entirely different story than the one he had parsed from his files. The boy might not be entirely innocent of crimes, but it’s now clear he’s doing it because he sees no other way out. It’s not an excuse that would work in court, but Harry isn’t working under the assumption that he is the law or justice or some such nonsense.

After all, he’s been made to do things that would render him a monster in the eyes of many people, his nature as a Fae notwithstanding. That it had been condoned by Kingsman to protect the peace does in no way absolve him from carrying the guilt of his actions.

He knows the boy won’t talk about his stepfather, not if he isn’t even admitting to Harry’s presence. He keeps silent even after the rest of the men have described him in great many details. Most of them are wrong of course, fear clouding their memories already, but if they are talking, there is no reason he shouldn’t be too.

But he is keeping his mouth shut, even for a complete stranger.

Getting him to reveal any details about anything will be hard work, but maybe he can be convinced if it’s about people he holds no kind of loyalty to or if he knows that he would be free of retribution from them.

“Release him,” he orders simply when the Detective joins him to observe the boy after leaving the interrogation room.

“What? You’re joking right?”

“Not at all,” he answers the man flatly. “He’s paramount to one of Kingsman’s current investigations.” It’s not that he needs to justify himself, but a modicum of information always goes a long way to ensure other agencies’ collaboration. It’s as if people are more inclined to work with you if they think they are in into some kind of secret. It doesn’t always work of course, but in such cases, the threat of having Chester King call their direct superior to discuss why Kingsman has jurisdiction always does. Both because Chester is a terrifying bastard with all the right connections and because no one really wants to deal with a case involving too many Fae.

“He’s your snitch or something?” The other man presses his luck and Harry looks at him, highly unimpressed.

“Does he look like he’d talk to anyone?” Sure the Detective’s method are kind of laughable, but they could eventually work on someone without Lee’s son’s defiant personality. “Release him,” he repeats himself, “but keep the others for as long as you can.” He wouldn’t want to risk any of them seeing the boy leave with  him.

And to be honest, now that they have most surely lost their utility to help Harry track the Shadow, he thinks the police are about to receive enough evidence to keep them locked up for a long time.

He leaves before the detective can muster the courage to ask him more questions and to incite him to get a move on.

As it is, he waits a good half an hour before Lee’s boy walks down the stairs of the station, looking around him with suspicion. His senses are sharp for a simple human, because he spots Harry through his spell of concealment nearly right away and he looks ready to bolt back where he came from.

“Eggsy, wait.” The boy freezes at the words, like he did when their eyes met in the alley a few hours ago. Unlike then however, he doesn’t look terrified, but rather more like a feral animal that’s been cornered and that’s about to lash out.

“What do you want?” The words are spat out with as much disrespect as if they were the most appalling insults, but Harry doesn’t mind. It only proves what he knew already. The boy’s got spirit. And he’s also smart enough not to ask obvious questions like how Harry knows his prefered name.

“I was hoping we could talk. I know a pub not that far that should still be open.”

For a long moment, the boy just stares at him in utter shock and Harry finds himself believing it might actually be this easy. But the second he lowers his guard, the boy shakes his head. “Yeah, no.”

And before Harry can react, the boy is off, quick as lightning, expertly scaling the side of the nearest building. It won’t be enough for him to escape Harry, but he must admire his ingenuity.

It also gives him the perfect excuse to drop his glamour and he releases his wings again so that he can give him chase. Twice inside the same night is a treat really, and he vows not to be too rough with the boy once he catches him.

Anyway, with the tracking spell still active, it’s not like he stands any kind of chance.

*

It feels like his lungs are about to explode in his chest when Eggsy finally comes to a stop in a small car park. He’s not entirely sure where he is now, but hopefully it’s far enough away from the vengeful Fae.

Not that he had seemed that dangerous standing under the streetlight outside of the station, but Eggsy isn’t a fucking goldfish. He hasn’t forgotten what he saw earlier that night and he’s not foolish enough to believe that the Fae simply wants to speak with him.

Of course, he doubts he can escape him for long, but if he can buy himself some time just to make sure his mum and Daisy are fine, he’ll count that as a victory. To do that however, he’ll have to leave the relative safety of the car park and find the nearest tube. Which is exactly what he’ll do as soon as he gets his breathing under control again.

“Are you done now?” The voice echoes into the empty space and he scrambles in terror until his back hits the nearest wall, his eyes darting left and right to find where the Fae is hiding. It takes him too long to remember the wings he had been sporting during the fight and he jumps again in fright when the gentleman lands softly a few feet in front of him.

Though “gentleman” isn’t the right way to describe him right now and it’s got nothing to do with his nature as a Fae. Rather, it’s in the wildness of his eyes and his slightly manic smile, the way his hair is now wind-tousled and his clothes askew from his flight in a way they hadn’t been by the fight earlier. In fact, when the wings and antennas disappear under the glamour, Eggsy finds him all the more disturbing.

“I must admit I am rather impressed.” That would be all right and fine, but Eggsy doesn’t think that will be enough to make the man change his mind about whatever vengeance he wants to exact. “Had you not needed to stop and rest, I wouldn’t have been able to catch up to you with all your running and jumping around.”

“If you could stop beating around the bush and just hit me...” Goading him probably isn’t Eggsy’s smartest idea, but his sharp mouth is the only thing that’s left to him now. He can’t run anymore, but he’ll be damned if he gives the Fae the satisfaction of seeing him defeated.

His eyes widens in false innocence, but at least he doesn’t try to play dumb. “I really just want to speak with you… At least, I do now.” he amends quickly when Eggsy glares at him. “But where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself! Harry Hart, I knew your father.”

It’s stronger than him, the pull of those words, and he takes an involuntary step forward. He still doesn’t trust the Fae, but if he knew his father than he can _tell Eggsy_ about him and that’s… that’s worth getting a beating for.

“What about him?” Still, he tries to play it cool, but he knows he is unsuccessful when Hart smirks at him.

“I can tell you a few things… But only if you follow me to that pub. I am in dire need of a pint.”

They stare at each other for a long time before Eggsy capitulates and jerks his head in a parody of a nod. Hart is the one in control at the moment and they both know it.

For some reason, Eggsy is convinced Hart is going to offer him his arm like some outdated gentleman, but thankfully he does nothing of the sort. He simply waits to make sure Eggsy is catching up and lets them fall into step together without another word.

It’s not long before they arrive to their destination and this time, Hart does pull an out-of-time gallant move and actually opens up the door for him. But seeing as he’s come so far already, Eggsy just shrugs and enters the pub without putting up a fuss.

The decor isn’t as fancy as he feared, but it’s a few notches fancier than the Black Prince, judging by the side-glance the bird at the bar gives him when he walks in. As soon as she spots Harry however, she loses all interest in him.

“So, where did you know my father?” He asks as soon as they sit down at a table far into the back with their respective drink in hand. He knows the Fae wants to talk, but if he thinks he’s going to lead the conversation, he’s got something else coming.

“From work mostly, but we did socialize outside of it.”

“You’re in the army then?” It would explain his crazy fighting skills, but even as he asks it, Eggsy knows it cannot be that.

“No. Well yes, I was for a brief while, but that’s not where we worked.” Before Eggsy can call him on his bullshit, because no way did his mother _lie_ about what his dad was doing, Hart continues. “I’m a Kingsman agent and I met your dad when he was recruited into the organisation.”

“Yeah, right, try pulling the other one bruv.” He’s angry now, but mostly at himself for believing that some posh gentleman could really have known his father in any capacity. Especially if he’s a toff from Kingsman. Considering the agency is more elite than the bloody MI-6, he can’t imagine of any reason why they would have had anything to do with a simple human. “My father was as mortal as they come, no way he would have been brought in to work with you.”

“While I admit most field agents are Fae, it would be rather hypocritical of an organisation whose primary mission is to uphold the peaceful cohabitation between Fae and Humans to be comprised of only the former. Of course, we do tend to recruit only those with extraordinary abilities, but we don’t have sole dominion on those. Humans are full of surprises too.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” He challenges him, getting more irritated when Hart simply seems to grow amused at his behaviour.

“It can be quite simple. An intelligence that goes above genius levels for example.  Or an uncanny marksmanship. Or even, standing your own while being hunted by an Erlking.”

“ _Fuck me_.” The words slip from his lips before he can stop them, but anyone in his situation would have done the same because _fuck him_. He’s not a Fae expert so of course it takes Hart saying the words for him to put two and two together and realise that of fucking course with wings like that and such a euphoria over giving him chase earlier the Fae has to be an Erlking. And somehow, instead of having his head torn off by the ultimate hunter after being caught, he’s been drag to a pub and has had his pint _paid_ for by the Fae.

“Not on the first date, I’m afraid.” Harry deadpans, his face completely serious. It’s a bit freaky, as if he’s been reading his mind, but that’s not the thought that makes him freeze in his seat. No, what makes him suddenly break into a cold sweat is that this could be some kind of fucked up courting ritual to the Erlking for all that he knows. “I’m joking,” is added quickly, Hart probably sensing Eggsy’s discomfort, “this is strictly professional.”

Of course, no sooner has the rejection been issued, that Eggsy’s brain catches up with his eyes and he notices just how _fit_ the man is. Like _really_ well-fit. He also got an aura commanding respect when he isn’t actively trying to beat anyone, an aura that makes it hard to look away from him. And now that he can’t avert his gaze, he realises that the Fae is quite handsome too, his brown eyes warm and mischievous.

That he can probably kill him with his left pinky does nothing to deter Eggsy’s sudden attraction. Luckily, he’s got too much pride to let his newfound fascination with the man’s physique sidetrack him from their current conversation.

“I don’t see what’s professional about this.” At least not if it’s any kind of official business. He’s the first to admit he doesn’t have the best track record with legal work, but he’s still got experience in it. Getting a beer from the bloke who nearly beat you to a pulp in a dark alley is so far outside of it, it’s in another dimension.

“What is professional about this-” Hart starts slowly, not like he thinks Eggsy is dumb but rather as if he doesn’t want to spook him, though that’s a bit too late for that. Handsome or not, the Fae is _dangerous_ and Eggsy knows better than to let his guard down. “-would be the offer I’m about to make you.”

“I ain’t grassing on no one.” He can feel his lips curls up in what is clear disgust. He should have seen it coming really, that Hart would want to turn him into a snitch, because what other use would the Fae have with him? But even if he’s desperate, he’s got no deathwish. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure that with Kingsman’s resources you don’t need a chav like me to find out everything you want to know.”

“You’d be surprised.” He doesn’t know Hart at all, but he doesn’t miss the helpless frustration that radiates from him at the words. Probably just a ploy, but something inside of him twists worriedly at the thought that there might be something, _someone_ , out there escaping Kingsman’s watch. “But hear me out please. Would it be “grassing” on anyone if it was your job to monitor such activities and put an end to it.”

He resists the impulse to bang his head on the table, because of course Hart isn’t listening to a word he’s saying. He must be too used to get his way. Trust a toff to think “no” doesn’t apply to them.

“All I’m hearing is that you want me to be some kind of fancy snitch, but out there in the streets, that won’t change anything. I’ll be a dead one in a week tops.”

It’s Hart’s turn to look like he wants to bang his head on the table. Or possibly Eggsy’s, considering the Fae’s violent streak.

“You misunderstand me. I want you to become a Kingsman agent.”

“ _Fuck off_.”

For a moment they just stare at each other, Eggsy’s mind completely blank. He would think he’s misheard, but he would have to be pretty drunk to mishear something like _that_ and he’s barely touched his pint yet.

He wants to say something, anything, but nothing comes to him and he’s stuck opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

“Fuck off,” he says again instead because either Hart really thinks he’s an idiot or the Fae is some kind of madman because there is no way that could be happening.

“I’m being completely serious.” He looks it too, but at the same time he might be a good actor. How would Eggsy know? “Of course, I won’t deny that some of your knowledge about the drug trade in London is a key point in one of our current case and we would ask you to share your expertise about it. But I also believe you would make a fine addition to the organisation. And if field work doesn’t interest you, I assure you we can find you a support position you’d thrive in.”

The shock of the offer is slowly wearing off, but he still can’t quite believe it’s true. The world doesn’t work that way for the likes of him. There will be a catch somewhere. There has to be.

“So you’re saying you’re giving me a job and, what? I just have to betray everyone I know?”

“Not quite. Ghastly as his business is, I don’t care about your stepfather. But there is a new player in town and they are highly dangerous.” The seriousness with which he says the words makes Eggsy shiver involuntarily. He had been somewhat aware of the changes in players happening, if only from listening to Dean bragging about how he had new and better connections, but he hadn’t really thought much about it. Until recently, he had been trying to quit the life after all. Knowing _Hart_ finds the person up the ladder _dangerous_ is enough to make him want to run far away. “I want to take them out before they can do too much damage. And for that, I do need your help.”

Eggsy really shouldn’t trust him, but the way Hart so easily admits to needing _his_ help… He’s never really known that. Sure his mum and baby sister needs him, but that’s not quite the same. It’s his responsibility. But helping Hart… That would be his choice.

And to be frank, who has never dreamed of working for an organisation like Kingsman?

“So you can just… hire me, like that?” He’s careful not to tip his hand, not to show how eager he suddenly is about this.

“Well, not really.” Reality comes crashing around him once more. Of course not. Those were just empty promises to hook him up and make him lower his guard. Hart has no intention of following through. Before he can get up and leave, because this meeting is _over_ , Hart continues as if he isn’t sensing Eggsy’s turmoil. “It will have to be approved by my superior, but it will be easy to convinced Arthur that you’d be an asset.”

“How easy?” He still has half a mind to just get out and leave Hart alone with his Guinness, he’s still suspicious of how simple he makes the whole thing sound. But if there is even a chance that it could be true, that he could find good legal work… He can’t throw this away because he’s too brash. He’s got his mum and Daisy to think of.

“Oh, Arthur will have a tantrum when he sees you, but he’ll come around within the hour. Not saying he’ll personally like you, but he’ll let you prove yourself.”

That should probably give him pause, but seriously he doubts anyone can be worse than Dean as a boss. If he can survive his stepfather, he can probably survive this Arthur bloke.

“And what if I say yes, but under conditions?”

Surprise flashes quickly in Hart’s eyes, but it’s replaced by respect, as if he approves of Eggsy bargaining before agreeing. Then again, he’s a Fae, of course he would like bargaining.

“As long as they are reasonable, I’m sure they can be added to your contract.”

“First I want Dean and his dogs put away for good. Keep him as far away from my mother and sister as possible. And I want them someplace safer than our crappy flat. If word gets out that I am remotely involved with you, it’s not me I worry about it’s them.”

If Hart is surprised by any of this, it doesn’t show on his face.

“That can be easily arranged.”

“And you’ll tell me all about my dad. Don’t think I didn’t notice how you’ve told a fat load of nothing about him.”

Hart chuckles at that, a deep rumbling sound that makes Eggsy’s insides twist in a pleasant way he very deliberately ignores.

“Of course. I’ll even start while you finish your pint. What do you want to know?”

*

“A fucking tailor shop?”

The only reason he doesn’t laugh at Eggsy’s outcry as they came into view of the shop is because he’s hit with a pang of nostalgia at the boy’s reaction. Lee had had the exact same reaction about twenty years ago, the same outraged disbelief.

“Yes, a tailor shop. Until the last World War, Kingsman had to stay hidden, even from the government. But we also needed a place to meet and pass on information, one that wouldn’t garner unwanted attention. The shop was as good a front as any. I’ll even say better, considering the connection has never been discovered, even after we became a legitimate organisation.”

It’s a fact that never ceases to amaze Harry himself, so he doesn’t take the boy’s skepticism too personally.

After all, it _should_ be an easy connection to make. The Kingsman tailor shop has been run by Fae since its inception centuries ago and is patronized by many powerful people, both mortal and Fae. It shouldn’t be any stretches of the mind to realise that the Kingsman agency, the agency policing the Fae and upholding peaceful inter-species relationships in England and even sometimes outside of those borders, is just another branch of the same entity.

Apparently it is.

But it serves their purposes, even if it makes him despair about the intelligence of the general population. And the not so general too.

“How come no one realised when you’re not even trying to hide? I mean, you got the same name, that’s not even subtle.”

“According to Merlin, it’s precisely because it’s too obvious. People would rather believe in a farfetched explanation than what is right in front of their eyes.” He unlocks the door to the shop and holds it open for Eggsy. “That way they can imagine the life of an agent as far more glamorous than it actually is.”

Eggsy hesitates only a moment before going in, taking in the inside curiously.

If he’s looking for any indication that this is merely a front, he’ll be sorely disappointed. The shop is a legitimate business and the tailors working here pride themselves in their impeccable work.

As they well should in Harry’s humble opinion and not only because a few of the tailors are retired agents. No what makes them so valuable is their ability to make such wonderful bulletproof suits woven with protective spells for all active personnel.

Andrew -- once upon a time the fearsome agent Dagonet -- is manning the desk tonight, or rather this morning. If it was any other shop on Savile Row, there wouldn’t be anyone to welcome them in, but, much like the rest of Kingsman, the shop is open around the clock. At least, it’s open if you’re a member of the agency.

Even if he does raise an eyebrow in curiosity when he takes in Eggsy’s clothing, the old man is the epitome of discretion and says nothing, waiting on Harry’s cues. It’s probably not the weirdest he’s seen in his career anyway, can’t even be on his top ten list of strange situations that has happened to him.

“Andrew, good morning. Is Arthur in?”

“Yes, he’s in the dining room.” Harry allows himself a smile. He wouldn’t have minded bringing Eggsy all the way to the manor, but he’d rather not hand Chester another excuse to hate on Lee’s boy. His smile disappears quickly however when Andrew continues. “And so is Merlin. I think they’re waiting on a update about your latest client.”

Harry bites back a curse. There is absolutely no scenario where Chester would take kindly to Harry bringing in an untrained civilian into one of his missions, but he’ll need Merlin’s support to convince him to let the boy stay. And while his friend is usually reasonable, he might not be so after having to wait in Chester’s company for what Harry assumes is hours.

“I better not make them wait any longer then.” Andrew nods wisely and Harry gesture Eggsy to follow him. “Come along, time to meet the boss.”

Eggsy doesn’t need to be told twice and Harry cannot help but be reminded of his father again. The resemblance between them is just uncanny when Eggsy forgets about the chip on his shoulder. He has very little doubt that Eggsy’s sudden confidence is mostly false bravado on his part, but some of it _isn’t_. Some of it is _pride_ , one that is entirely justified, or so Harry thinks.

It’s strange how fast he’s changed his opinion on the boy and in any other circumstances he would have suspected that some kind of magic was at work, but he knows it’s not anything of the kind.

Eggsy simply has the same type of effortless pull, that air of friendly charisma, that Lee had. He makes people want to _trust_ him, even an old Fae hardened by life like Harry is. And the reason Harry doesn’t really try to resist whatever is bringing him closer into his orbit is that it’s completely unconscious.

Eggsy isn’t playing a game, it’s just the way he is.

It’s refreshing not having to guard himself so much, even if he had no doubt Merlin will call him ten different kinds of fool for trusting Eggsy when he hasn’t given them any reason to yet.

In fact, as soon as he steps into the dining room behind Eggsy and sees Merlin pinching the bridge of his nose, he knows that no matter the outcome of this meeting, there won’t be escaping a lecture from the man. Only its content will change depending of what happens in the following hour or so.

“Galahad, so good of you to join us. And with a guest. I wasn’t aware we would be entertaining.”

Chester barely spares a glance at Eggsy, already dismissing him as unimportant, in favor of turning the full power of his disapproving glare on Harry. A few decades ago, it might have weighed on Harry, but nowadays, it’s usually the expression favored by Chester whenever they have a meeting, which makes him immune to it. Instead of meeting Chester’s eyes, he focuses his attention on Merlin, trying to will his friend to catch onto his little machinations as early as possible.

“Arthur, Merlin, please forgive me. I was unavoidably delayed earlier and didn’t have time to contact either of you. Also, Mr. Unwin isn’t here as a guest.” Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up at the name, surely making the connection with Lee at once. He might not have seen Eggsy’s files yet, but ‘Unwin’ isn’t a common surname and Merlin would remember that Lee’s son would be about the same age as the young man now present in the room with them. Harry hadn’t been the only one close to Lee after all.

“An informant then,” Chester waves away Harry’s interruption, still completely ignoring Eggsy’s presence. “And while I understand the case that was assigned to you won’t be resolved in a few days, I still expect you to check-in and-”

“He’s not just an informant,” he persists before Chester can launch into boring ramblings about responsibilities and mission he’s heard a dozen time already.

“-and you should… I’m sorry? What do you mean, he’s not ‘just an informant’?”

“I mean exactly that. He’s not simply an informant. I have secured Mr Unwin’s insider knowledge in this affair, but only in exchange for a place in Kingsman.”

Both Merlin and Chester look shocked by Harry’s little announcement, but Merlin shakes himself out of it quickly, his fingers tapping away at his tablet, probably looking into why Harry would have offered Eggsy such a deal. Considering his glasses had been active during their little chase earlier, he has no doubt that Merlin will find the feed and understand that this isn’t Harry’s latest attempt to give Chester a coronary. Not that he would ever stoop so low as to play with someone else’s life in his battle of wills against the man.

“You did what?” He can feel Eggsy bristling at his side under Chester’s sneer, and he has to resist the impulse to step in front of him. The boy has made it clear he is in no need of a white Knight. “Absolutely not. Kingsman is not a place for morta-”

“Arthur.” Merlin’s tone is glacial, a curt warning for the older man to stop talking. Which Chester does because even he is not fool enough to anger Merlin more than he already has. “Sorry to interrupt, but I think now is a good time to remind you that no matter my skills with technology, I am as mortal as they come. And even if I brew some of the best potions, that doesn’t mean I have an itoa of magic in my veins. As you once told me yourself, Kingsman is a place for extraordinary _people_.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, but after a moment, Chester’s demeanor change into something nearly apologetic.

“You’re entirely right Merlin. Forgive me for letting the… _stress_ of our current situation make me talk out of turn. But you can understand my worries about how well Mr Unwin would fare during our rigorous training.” _Because he’s mortal_ is left unsaid, although everyone in the room hears it clearly. But Merlin doesn’t let himself be culled that easily.

“From the little I’ve just seen thanks to Galahad’s feed, I think he could hold his own. At the very least, he’s got better survival instincts than all our agents combined.” That last is said with a pointed look at Harry, but besides smiling innocently, he doesn’t rise to the jab. Right now, it’s important to convince Chester to let them train Eggsy and he won’t let himself be distracted from his goal by good-natured bickering. “Wouldn’t be the first time we trained mortals and it would actually get the Prime Minister off of your back about “diversity” hirings.”

Chester doesn’t grimace, but everyone can see he wants to. “But an agent?”

“Most of Kingsman’s recruits train for an agent position before their skills are redirected into a more appropriate branch. Not that I am saying Mr Unwin wouldn’t make a good agent, not when I haven’t tested his abilities myself yet. And with Miss Morton just starting her own training, not only it would allow for team exercises without pulling an active agent out of the field, but we’d save a lot of time and money on sensitivity training for her by pairing them together.”

Chester nods, but Harry knows it’s not in agreement, not yet. For the first time since they entered his office, Chester look at Eggsy. _Really_ looks at him, the kind of unnerving stare that makes you wonder if he can see into the depth of your soul. He can’t of course, but the long life he’s been granted as an Elf means he’s met many people and has become quite adept at reading them with only a glance. Many have cracked under the pressure of bearing his ageless stare for more than a few seconds.

Not Eggsy.

He stands up a bit straighter under the gaze, in a position close to parade rest, his eyes meeting Chester’s impassively but with an unmistakable gleam of defiance.

Chester’s lips twist slightly upward in what could be a smile, but it’s gone too fast to identify clearly.

“Well Mr Unwin, welcome to Kingsman. Let’s see if you’ll make your father proud.” Eggsy doesn’t gasp, but he seems dumbfounded at the statement. Not that Harry can blame him. Chester doesn’t seem the kind of man that would remember the name of a man who died decades ago and make the connection between that man and his son. But there is a reason the old man has been their Arthur for years and it might not be obvious at first sight, but he’s always been protective of whoever stepped into the organization. Though they do have to prove their merit first, which Eggsy hasn’t yet, unlike his father. Which is why Chester has already dismissed Eggsy again and returns to Harry. “I assume that even if you’ve “secured” his knowledge, you haven’t “acquired” it yet.”

“You assume correctly.”

Chester sighs before waving them away. “Go on then, get Merlin to make him sign a contract and then debrief him. I want you back in here at noon, with something worth my time.”

*

Sudden panic has him nearly fleeing the manor when he’s finally sat in front of a contract they fully expect him to read in its entirety.

It’s probably saying something about him that the thing that unnerves him enough to make him want to to change his mind about the whole deal isn’t how obviously out of place he is among all these posh people or even the fucking underground secret tube underneath the fucking tailor shop, but a binding contract.

Sure, there are all those horror stories circulating about carefully reading the fine print and legal jargon that means nothing to a simple commoner, but the contract he’s presented with is pretty straightforward and all in the same font as far as he can tell.

Merlin has told him to take all the time he needs to read it and even suggested he call in one of the Kingsman lawyers or a lawyer of his own choice to give it a look, but Eggsy has waved off the suggestion. The thought of a lawyer is worse than the coppers. Both are trying to screw you over, but at least the coppers are usually pretty honest about it, they never play games.

Anyway, even if Kingsman tries to trick him into being a janitor or something, it’ll be an overly paid one. He’s pretty sure his eyes glaze over when he reads the part about financial compensation for his training period. A month of those “compensations” would probably be enough to live comfortably for a whole year on the council estate.

The only part that has him read the page over again and again is the non-disclosure clause in the document. It’s not quite jargon, but the legal terms used are not really one he’s familiar with.

“So I couldn’t tell my mum what I’m doing?”

“You could tell her who employs you. But nothing about missions, on-going or otherwise, or, let’s say, the location of our headquarters.”

“Guv, I don’t even know where we are right now.” He’s only been calling this a manor because of the distance between the super-secret tube and Hart’s office where he’s been lead to straight away.

“Isn’t that convenient, considering you haven’t signed anything yet.” From that prick Arthur, the smirk would have made Eggsy itch to use his fists to clean it right off of his lips, but from Merlin, it only seems a friendly tease.

So instead of getting angry, he nods. He can’t really say he’s used to this kind of thinking, but he did had a brief stint in the marines. Of course they wouldn’t tell him anything sensitive before they guaranteed they could bury his arse alive if he ever spoke to the wrong people.

“Since we’re talking about that, what about her? Like, even if you get Dean arrested or whatever, she can’t stay at the flat, she wouldn’t be safe, especially not with the baby to think of and-”

“And we’ve already thought of everything.” For a second, it seems like Merlin is about to try and put his hand on his shoulder, but he aborts the movement at the last minute. It’s a bit weird that the man would feel that familiar when they’ve just met, but maybe he knew his father too. And to be honest, he’s not really complaining. After his meeting with Arthur, he’d rather have someone in his corner. “Of course, it wasn’t for this specific situation, but it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve put civilians in protective custody.”

“She’ll be given a house in another part of the city,” Harry chimes in for the first time since they’ve stepped into his office, finally giving up the pretense that he’s giving the report opened in front of him any attention. Merlin doesn’t say anything, but Eggsy notices the way he frowns with something that could be suspicion for a second before he schools his expression back into a mask of casual indifference. “It will only be a temporary situation however, until your training is over and you can figure out new living arrangements.”

“Yeah, but we can’t afford a house.” Even with the money he’ll make during training, there’s no way he can pay for a house in London.

“You can’t afford one _now_. And you won’t be asked to. Rent will be taking care of by Kingsman as part of our deal.”

“Consider it a signing bonus lad,” Merlin interjects again, but his eyes stay fixed on Harry as if the two of them are having a completely different conversation through looks alone.

Which he doesn’t care about at all. Maybe he should, it’s his future after all. But it’s not like he really has a choice. He’s lost any other option a long time ago. He could always go back to the devil he knows, but after last night’s fiasco, he’s pretty sure Dean will kill him if Kingsman doesn’t do it first.

Now that his only real concern has been addressed, he snatches one of the pens on the desk and signs next to the cross before he loses his resolve.

“Alright, it’s signed now. When are we going to get my mother.”

“We? Lad, you’re not going anywhere.”

For a claustrophobic moment, it feels like the words and the walls of the room close around him like a cage. He should have known there was a catch somewhere, that he wouldn’t be let out now that they had their claws on him and-

“At least, not until your mother has been moved.” He’s not sure if Merlin has sensed his inner turmoil or not, but he’s pretty sure he’s shifted away a bit, as if to give him more space.

“What, you can’t go without me! I have to be there and explain things to her or she’ll freak out and-”

“Lad, I told you already that it wouldn’t be the first time we’ve dealt with this kind of situation. I’m sure your mother is a smart woman. She’ll recognize that it’s in her best interest, and that of the baby, to follow our people. And you can call her tomorrow and explains things then, when you’re both settled in.”

“But-”

“If you really want to protect her, right now the best thing to do is to keep your distance with her. At least for as long as this case is open. No one should be able to make the connection between you and us for now, but it’s better to act like they might and be safe rather than sorry, don’t you agree?”

Of course he does, the only reason he’s here right now is so that his mum and Daisy will stay safe, but it’s hard to believe anyone would truly want to help. Though he has no choice but to admit that so far, Hart has indeed held up his end of the deal. He wouldn’t trust him or anyone at Kingsman blindly, but he has to start somewhere if he’s going to work for them now.

“Yeah, sure. I can really call her tomorrow?”

“First thing in the morning if you want. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go file the paperwork and organize everything. I’ll tell you as soon as your family has made it safely into the new house.”

Before Merlin can leave the room, Eggsy takes it on himself to thank the man. His mum raised him well after all and anyway, even if things didn’t turn out exactly like Eggsy wanted, Merlin has only shown good faith so far. Now that he’s officially a part of Kingsman, it’s his turn to do the same.

He makes sure that Hart has pen and paper ready and then does something he’s never done before. He talks.

The first few names he rattles off don’t seem to hold much interest to Hart, but the other man still dutifully take note of them. He would be afraid that they won’t honor the contract if he reveals to not know as much as Hart presumed he did, but nothing in it indicated that his hiring was dependant on the quality of the information.

Anyway, even if he has no doubt Arthur would like nothing more than to kick him out of his view, his mention of his father notwithstanding, Hart seems to live off Eggsy’s first impression of him -- that of a gentleman. A deadly one, there’s no forgetting that, but a gentleman nonetheless. He can’t imagine him going back on his word.

At last, one name stands out of the lot, and Hart interrupts him for the first time since he’s started.

“Edward Hesketh? Are you sure?”

“Yep, bruv. Total prick that one. And flashy to boot.” He cannot help the disgusted curl of his lips at the memory of the man. He hates all rich people as a matter of principle, but he would rather deal all the time with the likes of Arthur who is at least open about his dislike of ones like him, than the likes of Edward Hesketh, wannabe criminal overlord that tries to gain the favor of criminal scum like Dean while not hesitating to push them under the bus when it’s convenient. He might not go so far as to say he _respects_ Arthur, but at least they have a mutual understanding of their roles and positions in life.

“Can you tell me about any meetings that took place I could potentially verify?”

“You calling me a liar Hart?”

“Harry, please, we’re working together. And no, I wasn’t implying anything of the sort. Simply that Hesketh has been on our radar concerning other affairs for quite some time now, but the man’s a weasel and quite adept at covering his tracks.”

He doesn’t apologize for jumping to conclusions and Hart -- Harry -- doesn’t seem to be expecting it either.

“Nah, I don’t know much. He came to the Black Prince a few times to meet up with Dean about the new drugs, but it’s been a while. Even if Dean still uses him to brag about how he’s moving up in the world,” he rolls his eyes at that one because Dean is as high as he can ever get. He has no doubt that if he were to move out of his established territory, bigger sharks wouldn’t hesitate a second before devouring him. “But no, you want my opinion, if Hesketh came to Dean directly, it’s because he has, or had, another use in mind for him than to simply deal drugs.”

“You heard something?”

“No, not really. Just a hunch, yeah? Hesketh didn’t need to come meet Dean personally so much, even for a new product. I mean, sure Dean runs his own territory, but he’s a pretty small fish in the large scale of the drug trade. An intermediary would have been okay with him. So it’s… weird.”

“Hmmm. It’s unusual, yes. It’s definitely worth looking into. You got anyone else?”

“A good dozen, but nothing as juicy as that one.” It’s strange how he feels like he’s letting him down, especially since he’s made no promises about what he knows and what he doesn’t. Harry’s the one who’s been pursuing him.

Though Harry is far from looking disappointed.

“That’s okay. You never know who will end up as a real lead before you start digging. The piece that makes everything fall into place isn’t always a ‘juicy’ one.”

With that reassurance, he rattles off the last of the names before Harry shows him the way to an honest-to-God dormitory.

He would say something about it, because seriously with the size of the place, you would expect them to have individual rooms for everyone, but there’s already someone inside. She must not have been expecting anyone because even if Harry knocked before letting them in, she turns around and freezes, looking like a deer caught in headlights. And considering the antlers sprouting from her head, that description has never been so accurate before.

“Ah, Miss Morton, please forgive the intrusion. We’ve just welcomed a new recruit with whom you will be sharing the dormitory. I wrongly assumed Merlin would have been by already to let you know of the change of situation.”

“He hasn’t no.” She’s lost her shocked expression already, but from the way she’s fidgeting, it’s clear she is still nervous. Not that Eggsy can blame her. Considering how warily she’s eyeing Harry, it’s probably safe to assume she’s sensed that there’s now a predator in the room with her.

“I should have known he would be too busy. Please, do forgive me,” this time, his posture changes and it transforms him suddenly into someone entirely non-threatening. Not that the young woman can be fooled now, but she nods and stands up straighter, not quite into a defensive position, but clearly exuding more confidence than previously. Whatever it is however, it makes Harry smile approvingly and Eggsy does his best to ignore the little pang of jealousy that tugs at his heart. “Could I ask you to help Mr Unwin settle in and show him around the grounds? I fear Merlin will have too much on his plate today. Unless you’d rather get some rest?”

This last is aimed at him and even if he’s sure it’s coming from a good sentiment on Harry’s part, he cannot help but bristle a little.

“You’re kidding me right? I couldn’t sleep right now even if I wanted to. You’d probably have to knock me out with a brick.”

“Unfortunately, maiming the recruits so early in their training is kind of frowned upon,” Harry quips with a falsely apologetic smile. Eggsy cannot help it, he snorts, shaking his head when Harry visibly preens at his reaction. The man is completely ridiculous.

“Alright then. If Miss Morton has no objection, I’ll leave you two to it.”

She apparently has none since she only waves him away and soon he’s left alone with her. He’s spared trying not to stare at her antlers awkwardly when she steps closer and offers him her hand to shake.

“Roxanne Morton, but you can call me Roxy.”

“Gary Unwin, but everyone calls me Eggsy.”

He waits for the inevitable snarky comments, but she only nods, though her eyebrow does raise with curiosity.

“What do you say we go to the kitchens first?”

“I say you’re a fucking genius.”

And just like that, they’re grinning at each other. And as he follows her through the corridors, Eggsy thinks for the first time in weeks that maybe, possibly, things are looking up for him.

*

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

He doesn’t insult Merlin by pretending he doesn’t know exactly what he’s talking about when he walks into his office about an hour after he’s left Eggsy in Miss Morton company.

“Not entirely, but I think it’s time I do something. Lee saved my life and I just… Forgot about his family.”

“Harry…” His friend comes to stand at his side and for once, Harry doesn’t try to shrug off the comforting hand on his shoulder even if he’s stone cold sober. He simply cannot, not when the contact is as much for him as it is for Merlin, his eyes still haunted by the shadows of a past they hadn’t thought of in far too long. “You didn’t forget about them. Michelle refused our help. There wasn’t much you could have done when she didn’t even want to see any of us.”

Not that either blame her. To her, they had been strangers, the very same that had caused her husband’s death. And to add insult to injury, they had been the living proof that Lee had kept secrets from her. It hadn’t mattered that it had been to protect her, he still had lied about his new job.

“I should have kept tabs on them.”

“No, you couldn’t have. Not when it could have put them in unnecessary danger. And anyways, I would have had to report you for inappropriate use of Kingsman’s resources.” That’s debatable since Merlin has turned a blind eye to many of his shenanigans, but he doesn’t doubt that his friend would have had no scruple about telling Arthur if he felt he was endangering civilians. Especially if those civilians were the Unwins. “If anyone’s guilty of forgetting about them, it’s me. I could have easily checked up on them and no one would have been the wiser.”

“Merlin…” He doesn’t raise from his chair, but he grips at his friend’s hand still resting on his shoulder. There are very few things in life he hates more than seeing him in any kind of distress. “You’re so busy keeping us all alive that you barely remember to eat on a regular basis. I fail to see when you would have had the time to check on them.”

“I know I could have found the time. Much as you know you could have. But the reason neither of us did is because there is no helping those who don’t want to be helped.” He’s not wrong, of course he isn’t, but it offers him no comfort, and he rather doubts it’s all that comforting a thought to Merlin either. “And even if the lad asked for help, she didn’t. How do you think she’ll react when she learns you’re her new landlord?”

“I don’t see any reason for her to find out. I’m not asking for them to pay for anything. And if they want to stay once the case is done… It’s not like my presence will be required to sell it. It was always supposed to be theirs anyway.”

Sure Lee had never gotten around to buying the house, but he had had his sight set on it since he had first seen it when visiting Harry. A few months after his death, it had been an impulse on Harry’s part to buy it in honor of his memory, but it’s not like he had much else to do with his money. He was the last of the Harts and his heritage alone would have allowed him to live in luxury until the end of his life if he had been so inclined.

Of course, a house he would never use had seemed excessive at the time, but he hadn’t lied when he told Eggsy his family would be at a safe house. That’s exactly what he had done with it after a few years, offering it up to Kingsman whenever they needed a place in the city.

“Just… be careful Harry. Don’t let everything you do be dictated by a ghost. There is a reason they have no place among the living.” He squeeze his shoulder before letting go and Harry bites his tongue so that he doesn’t protest that he’s not doing all of this for a ghost.

At least, not entirely.

But he’s not quite ready yet to admit out loud that he might inexplicably care for Eggsy, not even to the man who has been his confidant for decades.

“Tell me once they’re safe,” he says instead, as much to change the subject as because he feels they’ve lost enough time on this case already. “I have a visit to pay to Edward Hesketh, but I’d rather wait and make sure Michelle and the baby won’t be stuck in the crossfire in the off chance he realises who might have tipped us off about his involvement.

“I will. It should be over some time this afternoon, I’m waiting on Morgana to take care of all the paperwork and the evidence for Baker’s arrest. I wouldn’t want him to be released because the police botched something up.”

*

It’s late into the evening when Harry finally lures Edward Hesketh into an empty classroom, away from the party they are both attending at the Imperial College.

Direct contact with a mark isn’t his favourite approach except if it involves fighting, but there is no avoiding it in this particular case. There is no way he can act covertly, not when the fact he is working for Kingsman is such an open secret in their circles. No one knows exactly to what degree he is involved with the organisation of course, just that he has some sway and might or might not be above receiving a bribe or two.

It’s a rumor he doesn’t really like having associated to his name, but one that has been useful throughout his career. The real “big fish” are far too careful to fall into the trap, but people like Hesketh -- simultaneously boasting about their supposed status in life and unsatisfied by how unimportant they truly are in the grand scheme of things -- those people eat the lie up without any hesitation.

In fact, Kingsman should have used it to clear the streets of Hesketh’s presence years ago, but it’s hard to summon up any guilt about it now that their earlier inaction might bring them closer to the Shadow.

He only wishes he didn’t have to listen to the man’s incessant ramblings about his own self-importance in the meantime.

“Truly Harry, if I had known you shared such similar interests as mine, I would have made contact with you months ago.”

“It’s not like I can announce my “interests”, as you put it, to the world freely. It took me some time before I found someone trustworthy and with the appropriate connections.” It’s a near thing, but Harry manages not to roll his eyes when Hesketh predictably preens under the blatant flattery, losing the last of his suspicions.

“Well, you’ve come to the right man.”

“Oh, but I have no doubt that I did.” A prudent man would be wary of being so obviously buttered up, but it seems that Hesketh is far more of a fool than Kingsman gave him credit for. If only Harry had known that earlier…

He wouldn’t be here and the Shadow would only be all that more unstoppable.

“You have no idea just how much is happening right now my friend.” Harry suppresses a shiver of disgust when Hesketh joins the word with an overly familiar pat of his shoulder. As if he didn’t feel slimy enough already.

“I’ve heard some promising rumors.”

“Pffft! I know those rumors and they’re not even the tip of the iceberg! They don’t even start to brush the genius of the people I’m working with! The plans they have would blow your mind!”

He doesn’t try to hide just how eager he is to hear more, not when it’s so clearly the reaction that Hesketh is trying to incite. The man is practically buzzing with the desire to speak as he leans in closer to Harry.

Barely a foot is between them when Harry suddenly realises that the buzzing sound is quite literal and he’s already flinging himself away when Hesketh yells in pain. Unfortunately, he’s not quite quick enough to avoid the strange cloud of gooey substance that explodes from the poor man’s head with the rest of his brain.

He has no clue what it is, except that it’s _magic_ and his last conscious decision is to throw one of the lighter-grenade in the classroom to burn off any of its residue and then to jump out of the nearest window to escape the blast.

He sinks into the darkness of unconsciousness before he’s even hit the ground.

*

The phone call to his mother goes better than he expects, but that’s probably just because she’s still in shock from all that’s happened. Eggsy is sure that when he calls her back in a couple of days, she’ll have far more to say and he won’t get away with being vague about where he is and what exactly he’s doing.

Then, he’s sure she’ll be freaking out, maybe even worse than when he had been with the marines, but this time, there will be no coming home in a hurry for him. Not when Kingsman can definitely protect her and Daisy better than he ever could.

He’s just sat down with Roxy to get a start on his breakfast when Merlin enters the room, looking like he hasn’t slept all night. Sure, he could be mistaken since he doesn’t know the man at all, but no one can get those kind of dark circles under their eyes if they’ve also had a full night of rest.

“Eggsy…” He trails off, not quite frowning, but not quite impassive either, and Eggsy might not know him, but he would have to be dumber than Dean not to understand that something is _very_ wrong right now. “Follow me please.”

Eggsy’s frozen in place, watching Merlin’s back for a few seconds as he walks away, until Roxy gently nudges him.

“You should really go. I’ve never seen him so worried before.”

That raises a lot of other questions, like why she hadn’t thought of mentioning that she knows him already when they were talking yesterday, or how the hell she can tell he’s worried, but that’s not really important right now.

By the time he’s out of the room, Merlin long legs have already brought him down the corridor and he has to sprint to catch up to him. One look at his face is enough to make him hold his tongue however. He still can’t read him, but his mind is clearly miles away. And even if he has the irrational fear that they’re kicking him out, he’s pretty sure they aren’t going anywhere near where the underground tube is located.

Turns out, Merlin is leading him to an infirmary ward inside the manor, the antiseptic smell emanating from it unmistakable.

For a horrifying second, he thinks maybe something bad has happened to his mum or sister, even if he’s just talked to his mum on the phone and he rather doubts Kingsman would allow them anywhere near the manor, much less inside of it.

The wave of relief he feels when he spots the definitely male form on the bed at the far end of the room is short-lived, his insides twisting with newfound worry when he recognizes Harry by his wings laying limply around him. Worry and _fear_ , because he cannot imagine what could have possible landed a Fae like Harry Hart in a hospital bed.

“What happened?” For some reason, it comes out as a whisper, but in the quasi-eerie silence of the ward, it sounds like he screamed the two words.

“He was caught in an explosion… But that’s not why he’s in a coma. He got hit with something magical-”

“But it’s not bad is it? I mean you can help him right?” Because seeing Harry so still is _wrong_. Not that he was jittery or anything the previous day, if anything he moved with an economy of movement that had to come from years of training. But he also had such a _presence_ and now that he is unconscious, the room seems _emptier_.

“I- no we cannot help. He’s stable and we think he’ll wake up soon, but I had hoped you would know something about what could have caused this.”

He can only shake his head helplessly, feeling like a failure even though Merlin tries to smile reassuringly at him. He knows a lot of nasty stuff out there on the streets, but nothing that could have done this.

“It’s okay Eggsy, I know it was a long shot.” Unlike yesterday in Harry’s office, this time Merlin doesn’t shy away from gently putting his hand on his shoulder. And it’s stupid, because really, it doesn’t change the reality of Harry unconscious in a hospital bed and yet, the contact is comforting in ways so very few things have been in his life. Even when Merlin takes his hand away, the warmth of his gesture stays with Eggsy longer than it realistically should. “I shouldn’t even have brought you here, but I didn’t want you to think that Harry was brushing you off now that he’d had what he wanted. I know him and I know he would take an active part in your training if he could.”

There is no reason why he should, but he believes him completely. After all, Merlin would gain nothing by lying to him about this.

And yet, it makes him so very angry.

Not at Harry, for getting hurt when he was trying to stop some evil plot. Not at Merlin, who Eggsy recognizes as being worried for his colleague who is also obviously his friend.

No, he’s angry at whoever did this to Harry, whoever took one of the few good things that has happened in his life.

Sure, the Fae is clearly no saint and there’s no telling if they would even get along in the long run, but that he’s been robbed of the opportunity to find out… Forget angry, he’s livid with rage.

And it’s only fuelled by the fear and helplessness he feels when he looks at Harry’s so very still form. And probably a lot of other stuff he’s projecting onto the situation, but he’s never pretended he had healthy coping mechanisms.

“Can I… Can I come and sit with him when I have free time?” He knows training will be hard, would have assumed it even without his long talk with Roxy yesterday about it. But from what she’s told him -- and she’s gotten her own information from her dads so he doubts they would have lied to her -- it will probably make him wish he was back with the marines. Though if they think he’ll give up, they’ve got another thing coming.

Harry won’t regret having brought him into Kingsman once he wakes up.

“Of course lad. But for now, I think you should go back to Miss Morton and your breakfast. You have a long and busy day in front of you.”

*

A week later, Harry still isn’t showing any signs of waking up. His vitals continue to be stable though and apparently, he’s in perfectly good health, if one is to ignore the fact that he’s in a bloody coma.

So far, Eggsy has come to visit him twice more. Merlin has left him alone during those times, even if he’s certain the man knows exactly when he steps into the room because Merlin knows _everything_.

In fact, even without all the cameras in the manor, Eggsy’s convinced Merlin would still know everything.

But _physically_ , Merlin has left him alone whenever he goes to Harry and Eggsy is grateful for it.

Because instead of being weird and Eggsy feeling self-conscious for doing so, talking to Harry is one of the easiest things he’s ever done in life. Well, talking might not be quite the exact word since the man is still deep into a coma, but he’s doing a lot more than just relating what he’s been up to with Roxy since he’s joined Kingsman. There is a bit of that of course, it’s unavoidable after he’s become fast friend with her and they learn about each other’s day-to-day life, him as a mortal, her as a Faun, and the struggles they’ve had in different areas.

Roxy might have had it better than him in the loving family aspect, but she is still Fae in a world where most of the leaders are mortals. And unlike previous generations before her, she dislikes having to hide herself in any way, hence why she is proudly sporting her antlers, even if there was a time she wasn’t so confident.

And while neither can truly understand what the other experienced, there’s already a deep respect for what they went through, no matter how different it was. Add to that the fact that they’re the youngest presently residing at the manor, it’s no wonder they’ve become friends so quickly.

So he tells him about some of that, but he also confides in him, minor stuff he wouldn’t mind telling a good mate, and acting as if Harry is actually answering him. It’s possible he’s way off in how he thinks Harry would react to some of Eggsy’s revelations, but whatever. If he is, Harry will have to wake up and tell him so himself.

He’s just starting to brag about how he’s apparently beaten some marksman’s records already during their training the previous day when Merlin and bloody Arthur step into the room.

He’s never shut his mouth quicker and he raises from his chair, standing up as straight as he can, keeping his head held up high, because no way is he giving Arthur any reason to mouth off at him or something.

“Lad, we need to talk.”

He would fear Arthur has found a way to kick him out of Kingsman, but the old man looks as if he’s eaten a dozen lemons, peel and all.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Maybe you should take a seat again.”

The last thing he wants to do is to listen to anything Arthur of all people tells him to do, but there is something in his expression when their eyes meets that convinces him to do so without a fuss.

By the time the two men have dragged two other chairs closer to Harry’s bed, Eggsy is barely refraining from shaking with nerves. He still can’t read Merlin, but there is something somber in his eyes that bodes nothing good.

“You know that Dean Baker and his associates have been moved to prison to await their sentences?”

He nods, because there is no forgetting his mum’s screams over the news when he called her two days ago. And they weren’t because she realised she’s better off without him. Dean’s got his claws deep inside of her still. But he has hopes that her time in protective custody, a time where she will have no contact with the bastard, that it will be enough to shake his hold off of her.

“Around 3 o’clock this morning, Mr. Baker was killed, as well as all his known associates.”

“What?” He would accuse Arthur of trying to pull his leg, but he’s got a feeling the man wouldn’t know humor if it bit him in the arse. “How… How did it happen?”

Dean getting shanked in prison wouldn’t really surprise him, but for the rest of his gang to be killed too? That sounds impossible.

For a chilling moment, the thought that maybe this is how Kingsman takes care of things crosses his mind, but thankfully Merlin continues before he can give voice to it.

“We don’t know. Whoever did it was a professional. And it could be a mere coincidence, but in light of what happened to agent Galahad, it isn’t a stretch to assumed it is related to our investigation into the Shadow.”

“Is my mum safe?” It’s the only thing he can think of, because if they got to Dean in a fucking prison and they somehow got to _Harry_ bloody _Hart_ , then surely his mum stands no chance and fuck, he really shouldn’t have left her alone, what if-

“She is as safe as she can be and we have upped the protective detail watching her and your sister. But it would probably be more prudent if you were to not contact her again after your next call. At least not until the case is closed.”

He nods rather dumbly, because he doesn’t want to give up on his calls to her, but he knows that Arthur is right, no matter how hard it is to admit it.

“Fuck… Who the fuck is this guy?”

“That’s what we’ll find out.”

And Eggsy still doesn’t like Arthur, rather doubts he ever will, but there is such raw conviction in his voice that he has no choice but to trust his words on it.

That, and the alternative is too scary to contemplate.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the kind of story I just adore, but I never thought I would write for many reasons. It's only part one due to the restriction in time since it's for the Flash Bang, but I fully intend to continue writing this because I love this story. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I did writing it.
> 
> Thank you to Spell without whom I would never have written it. Thank you for all the plotting you did with me and thank you for wanting to do this Flash Bang with me! I hope we get to continue to work together a lot. Your art is amazing, your playlist is amazing and you're plain amazing.
> 
> Thank you to my two test readers/cheerleaders Dianyx and Red for reading this as I wrote it and the much needed encouragement they gave me all through the challenge. Also another thank you to Red for doing the beta-ing and making sure I wasn't all over the place with my verb tenses. Ladies, your help always means a lot to me and I wouldn't be the writer I am today without the both of you <3


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